One and Only Friend
by Silver.Kitten-Chan
Summary: ["This one, Daddy! This one!" she said, peering in a cage with a big grin on her face. "He has to be the one, I can just feel it!"] Rin is bought a pet dog when she is six years old. From the perspective of Life itself, as if it were a person. Dark, mysterious, sad, and enthralling. I hope you like it. Please read and review.


**I DO NOT OWN INUYASHA AT ALL. THIS IS PURELY FAN MADE.**

**Chapter 1: First Encounter**

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I can recall the day she first met him. I watched her walk in my shop with her father. Her wide dark brown eyes shined with excitement. Her hair tied in a ponytail on the side of her head. She was dressed in a knee length, orange dress with a yellow and green floral patterned ribbon around her waist. Her little brown penny loafers on her feet tapped quickly as she ran back and forth between the inner and outer door. My bronze bell rang through my shop with a clang, and I smiled at my newest customers.

"Is there something I can help you with?" I asked politely, looking at the man behind the small girl.

He smiled. "My daughter has been asking for a pet. Since she has been so good recently, I decided to get her one." My immediate thoughts went to the softer dogs at the front of my kennel. Small and friendly. They would do well for a girl like her, I thought. I took her and her father to the kennel at the back of my shop. The dogs began barking and calling. Each one of them wished to be taken to a new home with this charming young girl.

I walked over to a cage of small basset puppies. She grinned and cooed at each one. Her father merely stood back and watched. When the girl stood up, she turned to me and asked the strangest question.

"Do you have any bigger dogs?"

I could only stare at her with my mouth agape. Her father soon took pity on me and explained the strange request for such a small girl. "We have been experiencing some… unfortunate problems recently. I gave in to my daughter's request for more than one reason. She needs a dog that would protect her as well as be her friend."

I nodded, thinking of what breed I could offer. I was brought out of my thoughts by a delighted squeal. I heard a number of my dogs whine from the high pitched noise.

"This one, Daddy! This one!" she said, peering in a cage with a big grin on her face. "He _has_ to be the one, I can just feel it!"

I walked over to see which lucky fellow she had chosen. When I saw, I stopped in my tracks. "Miss, that one may not be to your liking. He doesn't exactly like people in general." She merely shook her head and peered at him through the bars.

The silver furred dog she was looking at was notorious for being returned for one reason or another. He bit a child. He broke the wall. Some even said he was downright evil. I couldn't possibly give this young girl such a cruel dog. I tried to express my concerns to the girl's father.

"Are you sure, Rin?" he asked. I was too stunned to object.

"Yes," she said beaming.

"We will take that one then. The silver dog with the golden eyes," the man stated. I could only go through the routine this dog and I had long ago started when I first found him. I unlocked his cage, and he stepped out, apathetic of the world around him. I hooked the leash on the collar I gave him and handed it to the man. I walked to the counter, put it in to the cash register and received payment I knew I would have to give back. Then I watched him leave with the man and the girl, Rin. The funny thing is, sometimes, life has a funny way of making its choice known. And when you fight it, it forces the issue. There are many times I pray that young Rin was not the one who chose him then. Maybe if someone else had come in sooner. But that is not how it happened, that is not how it was meant to be.

I remember the next morning, waking up, ready to face another day. I walked out of my bedroom and into my kitchen. I pulled the paper from the mailbox, poured myself a cup of coffee and sat at the table. I shook my paper open, took one look at the headline, and dropped it in shock. There, on the front page, stood the man from the day before. It was a photo of his family most likely. Him, his daughter, who I assumed to be his wife, and son were in the picture, and there above them in bright bold letters read **_LOCAL FAMILY MYSTERIOUSLLY FOUND MURDERED IN LOCKED HOME_**. I read on.

_Police arrived at 470 East Village Drive at 4:15pm yesterday afternoon. The inside of the home was, sources say, a massacre. Blood painted the walls and limbs were in all sorts of places. The police believe this may have been done by someone connected to the family. The sole witnesses to the crime are a six year old girl, the daughter of the family, and the family dog. "The girl has been traumatized severely," on scene forensic psychologist, Gary Barth, says, "She barely talks, and will not leave the dog's side. I believe that the canine may have aided in her survival, but cannot be certain until she confirms or denies my suspicions."_

I stopped reading. I couldn't take anymore. I knew, finally, that he was not coming back, which was a relief. At the same time, I knew there were some others who were not coming back, and for that I couldn't be more regretful.


End file.
